Docudrama
by NancyBG-OldMaidWhovian
Summary: The Doctor takes Donna along on an investigation of a UFO sighting in 1960's New England, which will eventually lead them to a present-day horror.
1. Chapter 1

Docudrama

Chapter 1

"You're supposed to eat your sprouts, Robert." Mum scolded, peering over the top of her mobile. "Not use them for ten-pin bowling. And pick up those one's you dropped on the carpet. Now." With that order given, she promptly went back to texting her co-worker, Trish, about her doings at a hen night on Friday.

Ten year old Robert made a face. He was seated at the family dining table on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, which is the last place he wanted to be. Robert had decided to liven up another dull meal, by sculpting little bowling pins out of his mashed potatoes.

Robert ignored his mum, like he usually did. Carefully holding the end of the knife handle in one hand, he positioned two of his fingers behind the tip of the blade. Then, hauled back and flicked them hard. The knife slammed one of the spouts with the flat of his dinner knife. It slowly rolled along the short distance of the dinner plate, flattening the 'pins'.

"Yes!" He shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

"Quiet!" Admonished Robert's dad, without bothering to un-rivet his eyes from the late afternoon news on the portable television sitting on a nearby sideboard.

"Yeah. Shut up, rug rat. I'm trying to kill people here." Robert's teen aged older brother said. His voice was punctuated by the tinny electronic gunshots and screams of the hand held game he was playing, in between forkfuls of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

"No. You shut up, fart-brain." Robert retorted.

"OK. That's quite enough." His dad said, reluctantly tearing himself away from the weather report to frown at his two sons. "Now be quiet, both of you. The sports results are coming on. I can't hear myself think."

"Since when do you do that?" Tad Mumbled under his breath.

"Tad's dissing Daaaad!" Robert rhymed in a gleeful sing-song.

"_Dissing_?" Tad leaned over the table and glared at his little brother. "Who even says that, anymore? That's so nineties."

"Well, I'm not the one still stuck on _Gangster Auto Theft II_, when all my friends are playing _Gangster V._" Robert teased.

"Well maybe if Dad hadn't lost his job, I could get the latest game." Tad whinged.

"I told you dear," His mum intervened calmly, as her fingers deftly texted along another bit of gossip, "get a part-time job, and I'll buy it for you. You can pay me back out of your wages."

"Why should I be the one to work? I don't wanna' be stuck collecting shopping trolleys or washing dishes. I won't have time to hang with my mates, anymore." Tad continued whinging. "Why can't dad get another job? All he does is sit there in the pub all day, with his pints and his laptop, uploading his CV."

Interrupting herself mid-text, Tad's mum replied, "Yes, he does. And he also pays the bills. For the food you're eating, the clothes you're wearing and the roof over our heads. Although...there seem to be more unopened one's than usual. You have been paying the mortgage, haven't you, John?"

"Oh great. We're gonna' be sleeping rough and eating out of bins, soon." Tad remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Robert had nothing to say. He was preoccupied, trying to see if he could shove a Brussels sprout up his nose.

"That's ENOUGH!" Their father screamed, throwing his serviette to the carpet in anger. "I've bloody well had all I can stand from the lot of you. I'm sick of your moaning. And I'm going to do something about it! Right now!"

Launching himself out of his chair, John stormed out of the room. However, before he could cross over the threshold leading from the dining room to the lounge, he stopped in mid-stride. Likewise, all those at the dining table were frozen in place.

Out of nowhere a man appeared. His body hovered over the scene like a ghost.

The man was humanoid in appearance, tall and slender, with gray toned skin. His head was balding, with sparse, dark hair. His blue eyes were bright with intelligence. His lips were thin, and his nose consisted of two small slits. The man was dressed in a flashy red sparkling jumpsuit. He wore a fringed black satiny scarf around his neck and a wide black belt cinched about his waist. His image was slightly transparent, because he was appearing as a hologram inside the family's dining room.

"Greetings, comrades!" He bowed with a flourish. "Lahkrow, here with you again. We'll be back with tonight's episode of '_They're Only Human'_ in just a moment. We hoped you've been enjoying watching the antics of the Brown family. But now it's time to vote! So get out your tabutrons! We'll un-pause the humans as soon as the voting has ended and we've verified the results with an official representative from the Office of the Aegis. So stay tuned, fellow Mataran's!"

The scene shifted to to two words, which suddenly appeared in bold letters. At the top of the screen, on either side of it were the words: **'LIFE**' and '**DEATH'**. Below the words were sets of ever-changing numbers. The humans remained frozen in place as slowly, the numbers under '_death_', began to increase.

The scene shifted once again to the man in the flashy red jumpsuit. "If you like what you've seen this week, we'll keep the Browns alive, and use your suggestions to see what will happen to them next. If you are bored with the action on your vid-screens, then we'll have a brand new set of humans to amuse you on our next programme."

The man dramatically brought his hand up to his forehead. "Ah! The Aegis' official is communicating to me the voting results right...now!" He smiled, bowed formally. "Farewell, comrades. Enjoy the rest of the programme, and I will see you soon. He blew his unseen audience a big kiss and waved. "As the bovyboys say on the wild plains of Tarlan, _garbotchko_!"

The man blinked out of existence, and the Brown family began where it left off. John Brown strode off into the lounge.

"What's wrong with dad?" Robert asked, picking butter and sprout out of one nostril.

"He's just upset at not being able to find a job right off." His mum sighed. "With his experience, your father thought he'd find work within a few weeks. Didn't think it would be a six months gone. Neither did I, come to that."

"What's he gonna' do? Send us all to the naughty chair?" Tad smirked.

His mum opened her mouth to say something. Instead, she covered it with her hand, a shocked, frightened look on her face. It took a few seconds for her lips to form any words.

"Oh my God! John! What are you doing? No, you can't—"

He scream was cut short by a loud pop. Followed by two more pops, in quick succession. Then, a few moments later, as a thin trail of gun smoke wafted through the dining room, there was a final pop.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Leaning against a safety rail, Donna watched the Doctor steering the ship.

"Who's this old man we're supposed to be seeing?" She asked.

"The Old Man in the Mountain." The Doctor told her, as he concentrated on piloting the TARDIS. "And it's not so much a 'who', as a 'what'. It's a famous American rock formation."

"I thought that was called 'Mount Rushmore'." She shrugged.

"Nah. Too touristy Who wants to see a mob of dead president's heads? Especially when I can take you to meet them in person? This is a natural rock formation, Donna. In New England. Looks like an old man. The people of New Hampshire are very proud of it, you know. Well, they will be." He shrugged. "Until it breaks apart in the late twentieth century. Then it becomes just another mountain."

"You're taking me to see rocks?" Donna asked, clearly not happy with that idea. "Seriously? Like I'm some kinda' kid on a school outing, or something?"

"Why not? Not all the amazing things in the universe are in outer space, Donna. And maybe after New Hampshire, I'll take you a bit west to New York state, to see Roman's Nose. It has a natural dance floor."

"Terrific. We can dance while some Roman picks his nose." Donna said unenthusiastically. She went up to him, her face reflecting her skepticism. "Alright, come on." She said softly, "This sounds way too tame for you. Why are we _really_ going to America?"

The Doctor's hands hovered over a control on the console. He sighed, as he turned too look at Donna. "I'm not sure. In the past few hours I've been getting some very odd readings. Something happened there in the nineteen sixties, and I think it's high time I found out what it was."

Donna shook her head, frowning. "Why can't you just tell me what's going on? You're always so sneaky about everything."

"What!" The Doctor exclaimed, a hurt look crossing his face. "Donna. I am not..."

"Yeah." Donna snorted, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows. "You are. Remember The Library? You couldn't just tell me you got that message on your psychic paper. So tell me now. What, exactly, happened in nineteen sixties New Hampshire?"

Giving a light sigh of resignation, he explained, "The first well documented UFO abduction."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The road trip had been an impromptu idea of Ben's. He thought it would be nice for himself and Bailey to take a weekend break in the off-season. To see more of their part of the world than just trees and mountains, and the never-ending stream of leaf-peeping tourists from New York City.

It was late autumn now. The leaves were brown, if not gone altogether. Halloween was nearly upon them. However, they lived off a rural highway, miles from town. They never had any kids stopping by, and the two of them felt they were too mature to play dress up, even for one night.

Niagara Falls had been amazing. Especially with so few tourists to crowd the railings. Ben and Bailey were virtually alone as they strolled along, admiring the views. They even took the chance of walking hand-in-hand in public.

"It's a shame we can't be married." Bailey said wistfully. He squeezed Ben's ha

nd, as they walked past a closed shop that specialized in newlywed items.

For over a hundred years, Niagara Falls was famous for being a honeymoon destination. Dust was already gathering on the items in its display window. Like many resorts in that region, the Labor Day holiday the last weekend of August spelled the end of the summer tourist season. Some came back again, for a few weeks in October, to view the kaleidescope of colors that the heavily treed northeastern U.S. and Canada were famous for. Now, with nearly everyone gone, they could just kick back and be themselves...as long as nobody was looking.

"Hmmm—" Ben shrugged noncommittally. "Wouldn't change our relationship, though."

"Who knows? Maybe someday, decades from now, people like us could marry and live normal lives right out in the open. Maybe even be able to adopt kids and get joint health insurance policies. Wouldn't that be something? Look what's been happening down south with that King fella'. Maybe someday, we'll even have a black president, eh?"

Ben snorted negatively. "In this country? That'll be the day. Dream on, buster."

"I believe it. Well..." Bailey said more hesitantly, "I want to believe it, anyway."

"You'd believe in anything." Ben teased. "Leprechauns, horoscopes and the Red Menace."

"Nah. I hate the color red, and communists make me break out in hives. And I don't believe in capitalist Irish midgets with a rainbow fetish, either. Or ghosts. Or UFOs." Bailey smiled. "But your horoscope did say you'd be getting the surprise of your life, this weekend." He said, giving Ben a lingering, suggestive look. They both laughed.

Then their dog, Little Joe, a border collie mix, began barking at a small group of elderly people who were walking towards them. Ben and Bailey quickly let go of each other's hand. Their private moment gone, Ben pulled on Little Joe's leash and reversed course. The pair of them walked in silence the rest of their way back to their car.

The two of them had such a relaxing, enjoyable weekend, they decided to take the long way home. They took their time, Crossing the border into Canada. Ben drove their beat up station wagon through Quebec instead of the more popular route, across New York state, then north into Vermont. They began the trip home at four the next morning, stopping for an early lunch in Montreal.

"We're gonna' need gas." Bailey advised him from the right side passenger seat. He was holding a map spread out on his lap, taking on the role of navigator. And, backseat driver. The one thing he did, that was guaranteed to get on Ben's nerves. "Also, I think you' might be lost, Ben."

"No foolin'? Gee, and I thought we could get home by wishing." Ben said under his breath.

"What?" Bailey asked, as he searched the map for the best route out of the city.

"Nothing. I love you, sweetheart. I'll ask the attendant at this gas station the best route out of the city." Ben said, as he pulled in off the road.

"This city can't be that complicated to drive through. I keep telling you which routes to take." Bailey shook his head in wonder at Ben's confusion, before once again consulting his road map.

"Yeah." Ben muttered crossly, as he shut off the car and got out. He slammed his door shut, "And _that's_ why we're lost, sweetheart."

The station sign running across the front of the little building was in English. Though someone had mis-spelled the word, 'tires'._ 'Esso. Petrol—Oil—Tyres. Put A Tiger In Your Tank.' _Unfortunately, the gas jockey spoke mainly French. While the man cleaned his windshield and pumped the gas, Ben tried to convey to the man that he was trying to get to Vermont. The attendant's eyes lit up at that word.

"_Vermon_'?" He said. "_Ah_! _Oui_!" Then, with many active gestures, he helpfully explained which way to go. Handing the man his Mastercharge card, Ben nodded his thanks. He hadn't understood a single word.

It wasn't until two that afternoon when they finally reached the Vermont border. Around seven o'clock, they stopped for a dinner of burgers and fries at a diner in Bennington. They were still almost two hours from the New Hampshire border. Bailey worried about being on the road so late at night. He wished he'd learned to drive. Ben looked awfully tired. They placed their orders at the counter which ran the length of the room, then took seats at a dark booth in the back.

"Maybe we should find a motel. Drive the last leg home in the morning?" Bailey suggested, leaning across the booth's table with concern on his face.

"Nah. I'm fine, honey. Just a few more cups of coffee and I'll be up all night." Ben winked, as he drank his fifth cup.

"Normally, I'd find that a very attractive proposition." Bailey smiled, his leg surreptitiously touching Ben's under the table. "But I'm exhausted. You'll need to install an elevator to get me up to the bedroom, when we get home."

"We can always settle in on the sofa downstairs." Ben whispered.

That's when Bailey noticed the driver of the logging rig that was parked outside, staring at them suspiciously from his stool at the front counter. Bailey quickly shifted and sat stiffly, dissecting the remains of his coleslaw with his fork.

"How 'bout those Celtic's, eh?" He said loudly in his most macho voice. "Think they'll make the finals this year?"

"What are you talking about? You hate basketball." Ben said, blissfully unaware of the logger's scrutiny. "I thought you liked hockey players?" He smirked, "Mind you, they do have nice bu—"

"Finish your coffee, Ben." Bailey interrupted nervously, "The sooner we're back on the road, the better I'll feel."

Shrugging, Ben slurped down the dregs and walked over to the cash register at the counter. He paid the check, picking up a white paper sack with a few burgers to go for the dog. By ten o'clock, they'd left behind Vermont's Green Mountain National Forest, and were driving a winding two-lane macadam through New Hampshire's White Mountain range. Bailey predicted that in less then two hours, they'd be home. Then he slouched in the seat in a light doze, letting his trusty map fall to the floor.

That's about the time Ben noticed the bright light in the sky.

Almost driving off the road a few times, Ben couldn't help staring at it. It was brighter than any other star he'd ever seen. Was it really a planet? Or one of those space satellites? Whatever it was, it was hanging low on the horizon, just over the tree tops.

After a few dozen miles, he got a jolt of realization. It seemed to be moving. Following their car. He told himself over and over again that it must be some sort of optical illusion. That he was tired and was only imagining things. The car was passing a long, tall mountain range. It was nothing but a dark silhouette in the clear night sky. Ben breathed an unconscious sigh of relief, knowing he'd not see the star for a while.

Yet, see it he did. It was still following the car! Only now it was on a parallel course. In _front_ of the mountain. Ben pulled over. He boggled. It couldn't be. But there it was. Bigger and brighter than ever before. Seemingly closer than it had been twenty minutes ago. And it took on a slightly different shape now, as well. More like a cigar with many lights, rather than than a single bright orb.

"Bailey!" He said, shaking his partner. "Wake up! You gotta' see this."

"Huh? Wha?" Was Bailey's only comment. "What's wrong, Ben? Do we have a flat tire or something?"

As Ben sat staring, the cigar shaped light seemed to almost hover there in the dark, as if it were observing the car, just as Ben was watching it. Whatever it was. He felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. Slowly the lights began to blink on the thing. It seemed to be even closer, now.

Without warning, Little Joe, who'd been curled up asleep in the back of the station wagon, let out a low growl, deep in his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Donna shivered and looked around at the bleak scenery. The Doctor had parked the TARDIS in some picnic area set up in a lay-by alongside a two-lane country tarmac. Heavily treed mountains were on both sides of the road. The forest was a mixture of grays and greens and browns, evergreens mingling with hardwoods. A few yards from them, a stream chuckled over stones worn smooth by timeless waters.

Some people may have found the area tranquil and picturesque. Donna was more interested in going back to the relative warmth of the TARDIS. She stared balefully at the Doctor. He lay stretched out on a picnic table, his long legs hanging off one edge. He had his hands clasped behind his head, which was tilted to the west, watching the sun slowly setting behind a mountain peak. Donna pulled her anorak closer about her. She made a mental note to buy a warm pair of socks, next time she went home for a visit.

"Why are we here, Doctor?" She asked for the fifth time, as she paced up and down to keep warm. "I don't see any little green men hanging about."

"How do you know they're green? They might be red. Or blue. Or red and blue." He suggested. "Or blue with red polka dots. Oooh. I'd love to meet a polka-dot alien."

Sitting up, the Doctor swung his legs over and slid off the table. He stretched his arms, admiring the view. The edges of his long coat flapped a little in the stiff breeze coming off the mountains. He slipped his hand into his brown suit and pulled out his eyeglasses. Slipping them on, he took out an odd device from his coat pocket. It resembled a small toy crossbow made of clear plastic. But instead of a bowstring there was yellow cable wire, and the bow was actually a long, narrow silver dish with thin, multiple antennas sprouting from it.

"I don't suppose we could meet your alien someplace with central heating." Donna complained.

"Nah. Fresh air, can't beat it." The Doctor told her. As he fiddled with the device, his feet scuffed through some debris left by summer picnickers. "Mind you, this place could do with a Hoovering. Won't happen, though. 'Nature abhors a vacuum'. I tried that out on Milton once, but he didn't get it. Well, fair dues. They hadn't been invented yet. Besides, he had a maid to do the carpet sweeping, and...erm—other things."

Pressing a trigger-like switch at the bottom of the device, the Doctor aimed it at the sky. The device glowed red and began to hum. Pocketing the glasses, he grinned with delight. "Ah! Here we go!"

"What's that supposed to do, then?" Donna asked through chattering teeth, seeing the white fog of her breath trailing away from her in the wind.

"Detects traces of a mitron energy signature. It's a harmless bit of exhaust left by most types of military spacecraft. It will help me to find out if there's been some sort of reconnaissance going on in the area.

"But, you said it was nineteen sixty three. Wouldn't we have known by now if we'd been invaded?" Donna wondered.

"Zygons. The Time Wyrm. Ice Warriors. The Macramé Fairy. Sycorax. Know about any of them?" The Doctor countered casually, raising an eyebrow.

"The Macramé Fairy?" Donna said skeptically. "I did that once. On summer holiday, when I was a kid."

In response, the Doctor suddenly produced his sonic screwdriver. He ran it up and down Donna's body. Then flicked it off and put it away.

"Hmm—yes. Yes, you did. Got any sudden urges to make belts or potted plant hangers?"

"No." Donna shook her head. "Haven't done that for years."

"You're fine then, Donna." He nodded. "Though you might want to stay away from craft fairs, from now on."

"Next you're gonna' tell me that Cabbage Patch dolls and disco were part of an alien invasion." Donna shook her head.

"Don't be daft, Donna." The Doctor said. He shrugged, tugging on his ear, "Rubik's Cube, though..."

"It's getting awfully dark." She observed.

"Shouldn't be too long, now. They'll want to wait until dark. So they won't draw too much attention to themselves." The Doctor said. "Your planet's radar technology was still fairly new in the early sixties. In fact, most commercial airports don't even use it yet. They still rely on landing lights."

The sun had already set behind the mountains. Beyond its orange and murky blue afterglow, the first stars were winking into existence. Far out into space, just beyond the moon, was a star that wasn't a star. A pinprick of light which was far brighter than all of the others. And it was moving. Towards them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The dog, Little Joe continued to whine, as he restlessly circled the back of the station wagon. Ben had nudged Baliey awake. He pointed out the strange object in the sky to his partner. Bailey rolled down the right side passenger window and squinted up at it.

"What is that? Looks kinda' weird, doesn't it?" Bailey looked at his partner, shaking his head in puzzlement.

Ben leaned over, looking through the windshield. He was unable to take his eyes off the light in the sky.

"I thought at first it was a star. Or maybe one of those things NASA is always sending up there. But now...I dunno'. It's way too low to be anything like that. Must be a private plane or something. That's all I can think of."

The mountain they were looking at was a good twenty-five miles away. Yet they both could see the strange object slowly moving at a parallel course from the car. Its path took it over the mountain, moving horizontally, just below the peak. They could see the light clearly against the darker backdrop of the trees.

"Oh my god. It's a UFO!" Bailey said excitedly. "Just like in the movies. How cool is that?"

"Oh come off it, Bailey. Maybe it's a search plane. Or a helicopter." Ben suggested. "Looking for a lost hiker or something."

"This time of year?" Bailey scoffed. "The tourists have been gone for a coupla' weeks, now."

"A lost hunter, then." Ben said firmly, as if this solved everything.

"Nah. Deer and moose season doesn't start till next week. I've been issuing enough permits at the store. I oughta' know." Bailey shook his head.

"Only for guns, Bailey." Ben asserted. "You forgot the bow hunters. And then there's the bear hunters, too. They're in season right now, aren't they?"

"Oh sure. Lots of folks out there shooting bear hunters." Bailey wisecracked. "Especially the one's from the city. Their heads make the best trophies. They're so goofy looking."

"Ha-ha-ha. Very funny, Bailey. I'm sure you'd be a big hit on the Johnny Carson show. Anyway, look how slow that thing is moving. That's gotta' be rangers or state police, looking for someone. I betcha' one a' them hunters got himself lost or hurt or something, and they're sending out search planes."

"This time of night?" Bailey wasn't buying it. "It's nearly eleven o'clock, Ben. How could they see anybody? Not in those woods. Too many trees."

"OK! So maybe it's a military plane. Out on night maneuvers or whatever." Ben said, refusing to give up on his theory."

"Military plane? How boring is that?"

Well, what else could it be?" Ben said, too loudly. "You tell me!"

"Alight, Alright. I give. Have it your way, honey. " Bailey, sensing that his partner was getting unsettled, put up his hands in mock surrender. Smiling, he leaned over and gave Ben a peck on the cheek. "It's a military plane. Though I still think my flying saucer theory is way more interesting. Anyway, now that that's settled, why don't you take Joe out for a walk? I think he's telling us he's gotta' take a leak."

"Me? Why me? I'm already doing all the driving." Ben protested.

"And I have allergies. Who knows what kind of weeds are out there. You really want to risk havin' me sneeze all over you the rest of the way home?" Bailey reasoned, hoping that walking the dog would take Ben's mind off the thing in the sky. "We're out of tissues. I'd have to use your sleeve."

"Ew. Why my sleeve? What's wrong with yours?"

"What? And mess up my new suede coat?" Bailey told him. "Do you know how hard it is, to get dried snot off of leather?"

"Oh, forget it!" Sighing dramatically, Ben gave in, grabbing the leash that was lying on the dashboard. "I could use a cigarette, anyway. God forbid I should smoke in the car."

"Can't help it, if it messes up my sinuses." Bailey shrugged. "You know smoke in confined spaces makes me all congested..."

"Yeah, yeah, Bailey. I know." Ben said patiently. "Now let's move on from discussing your boogers, huh?"

"Ummm, Ben." Bailey suddenly grabbed hold of Ben's arm, a hesitant tremor in his voice. "I think you should see this."

"Bailey, I swear. If this is about your snot, I am so going to kill you."

Ben had been preoccupied with tearing the cellophane off a packet of Lucky Strike cigarettes. On hearing the tone in Bailey's voice, he paused. Ben looked up and squinted through the windshield again. He took a sudden, deep intake of breath. His heart suddenly felt like it was pounding out of his chest.

The thing in the sky was closer now. Closer than ever before. And it had stopped. It was hovering, only a few miles off. And they could see much more of the object. The lights around the hull the craft—landing lights, he wondered? They were different colors, and winking, almost in a sort of sequence. They formed a vague outline of the ship. Ben gasped. It was huge! Bigger than any craft he'd ever seen.

As if it realized it were being observed, the ship abruptly sped off towards the north, moving out of sight behind another mountain. Ben swore under his breath. It had moved so fast, his eye could barely follow it. What sort of airplane moved with that kind of speed? He'd seen air force jets at an air show last year. Not even they could move like that. And it hadn't made a sound. That close in, they should have heard the roar of its jet engines. Yet, there was nothing. Only the silence of the New Hampshire forest on a frosty October night.

"What the hell? OK. That thing is just way too weird for my taste. The dog'll have to wait. We're outta' here!" Ben said. Putting the car into drive he tore out on to the pavement, spraying gravel as he went.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Captain Kruptil stood before the view screen on the bridge of his ship, his hands clasped behind his back. On either side of him stood Commander Pruda and Science Officer Quirl. Seated in chairs around the room were half a dozen gops—the low-ranking crew who manned the ship. All of them were looking with intense interest at the station wagon parked on the side of the road. They'd been following it for some time, monitoring its progress.

The gops were all very much alike. Dressed in one-piece dark blue overalls, both male and female crew members were very pale, almost albinos, round-headed and short. Their chubby faces held an almost child-like expression. Though their hair varied in color, most of the gops were blond. Their noses were human-like, but their eyes were much rounder, with no white or color pigment, only one large black pupil and no eyebrows.

The captain and two officers were taller than the gops. Their skin was smooth and slate gray. They had no body hair, but for their eyebrows and the hair upon their heads, both of which were black. Unlike the gops, the officer's noses were mere slits, their eyes more oriental in shape, with blue or brown eye coloring, like a human.

The well-tailored military uniforms of Kruptil and Pruda consisted of a shiny black coat, cut like a seaman's pea jacket. Their flared trousers were also black, with red slashes going down the calves of the outside legs. Both of them wore black bill caps with red trim, similar in design to the biker's caps of the fifties. There was no visible military insignia, but Kruptil wore a large red scarf about his neck, like an American cowboy. Quirl was dressed all in white and was bareheaded, to denote his status as a civilian volunteer officer.

The captain glanced at Quirl. "What do you think?"

"From what I can see, it looks to be some sort of primitive mode of transport, captain." Quirl nodded.

"Right. I want to see what's inside. Magnify image." Kruptil said, gesturing with his hand at one of the gops.

"Increasing magnification." One of the gops said, setting about this task.

The image came up, showing a closer view of the station wagon. Kruptil's steely eyes intently searched the screen.

"Increase magnification three fractons." He ordered.

"Increasing three fractons." The gop parroted back to the captain.

Now they could see a close up of Ben and Bailey, faces boggling out of their car windows, at the ship.

"It appears that we are being observed by some of the native species of this planet, Captain." Commander Pruda commented.

Quite unnecessarily, Quirl thought. His lips pursed in distain. Anyone with eyes could see they were being observed. He wasn't of high enough rank to say this out loud, however, so he held his tongue. Besides, the captain obviously wasn't bothered by something so trivial. Quirl supposed Kruptil was far more interested in those two live specimens they'd been following.

"Yes. I think we should back off a little. Don't want them to run away before we've had a chance to examine them. Helmsman! Take us out of optical observation range. Keep following that transport, but don't let them see us." Kruptil said.

"Moving out of observation range. " The gop helmsman affirmed. He sounded bored.

"Still tracking the transport." Another gop announced dully.

"Oh my! Now this is interesting!" A gop seated at a monitoring station blurted out excitedly. All the heads of the gops swiveled on him. Faces alight with anticipation.

"What is it?" Commander Pruda demanded.

"I'm picking up an odd signal of some sort." The gop said, grinning from ear to ear.

"What sort of signal?" Kruptil asked.

"I'm not entirely certain, but...it seems to be some sort of sonic device. Oh. It's stopped, now. What a pity." The gop said with a hint of melancholy. "Just when I was enjoying myself. Isn't that the way it always is?"

The faces of the other gops fell. Collectively sighing, they all returned to their work.

"Sonic device?" Pruda gave their science officer a puzzled glance. "Do you think these primitive have such advanced technology?"

"From what I've observed, I find that highly unlikely. I've recorded traces of some very archaic atomic weaponry." He shrugged. "There is a slim chance that they could have sonic tools. There's no way to know for sure, of course. But my opinion is that this lot haven't the technology for anything like that. Which can only mean..."

"Someone else is here, who is also not a native of this planet." The captain finished grimly.

"Find whoever is using that sonic device!" He ordered Pruda. "Find them, and eliminate them. Before they can talk to The Shadow Proclamation. No one must know about our mission here."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Night had long descended upon the lay-by where the Doctor had left his TARDIS. The moon was playing a game of hide and seek among clouds pregnant with snow. The temperature had plummeted as the wind picked up, blowing in fitful gusts from the northeast. A rime of frost was forming along the banks of the stream.

As the clouds covered the moon the landscape slowly dissolved, leaving only dark, indistinct shapes in its wake. That's when a swirling mass of large snowflakes began to drift earthward, like downy feathers from a giant pillow fight. Donna stared at them moodily.

Within minutes, the edges of the branches were already coated with a fine layer of white, looking for all the world like gingerbread trees. She scowled as she watched the flakes gentling settling on the sleeve of her parka. She felt the wetness of them on her hair. Her peripheral vision glimpsed a whiteness on a long ginger strand, clinging to it like dandruff. Donna almost savagely yanked her hood up.

"Oh, very nice. Love the parky weather they have here. In case you hadn't noticed, it's snowing. In blinking October." She said, biting out the the last few words. A clear indication that she didn't really think there was anything nice about it, at all.

"Why yes, so it is!" The Doctor smiled, as he walked a circle around the picnic table.

Snow was already clinging to his trainers, as they crunched through the fallen maple leaves. The crossbow-style device was held in his outstretched right hand, bleeping away. He paused for a moment, admiring the changing scenery.

"Aw, isn't this beautiful! It hardly ever snowed on Galifrey. Just the mountaintops. Maybe that's why the hermits lived there. I do love the snow. Better than atmospheric excitation, any day. Or that paper stuff the BBC uses. This is the real thing, Donna. You don't know how lucky you humans are."

In response, Donna rolled her eyes and gave a derisive snort. "Lucky my foot. This stuff may be nice for you, alien boy. But that's only cos' you've never been stuck shoveling out the drive at four o'clock in the morning."

Just then, the device in the Doctor's hand gave off a strange, high-pitched warbling noise.

"Hold on." The Doctor said, throwing a puzzled stare at the thing. "That's not supposed to do that. Unless..." His head jerked up. His sniffed the air suspiciously and made a face. "Can you smell that?" The Doctor asked Donna.

"Yeah. Fresh air. Swell." Donna said unhappily. "We can build a campfire and invite all the moose over for a sing along."

"No, Donna. Not that." The Doctor shook his head in mild annoyance. She wasn't paying attention. "There's this rather nasty burning plastic smell to the air. Reminds me of—"

The Doctor's eye had caught a slight glimmer of red near the roadside. A slender beam of light formed a dot on the tarmac. It stopped him in mid-sentence. Without warning, he grabbed Donna's arm and jerked her away.

"Donna! Come on! Shift!"

Pulling her along, the Doctor made a mad dash for the protection of the nearby forest. Donna let go with a curse as she nearly tripped and fell on a projecting tree root.

"Don't swear! Just run!" The Doctor called out, as he continued to drag her away.

Before Donna could say anything further, the picnic table they'd been standing near just moments before was suddenly obliterated in a blast of fire and smoke.

"Wait a minute!" Donna protested as she ran. "Where are we going? The TARDIS is back that way."

"Yes, Donna. And apparently so is the thing that's trying to kill us."

"Well isn't that wizard? What'd you do this time? Use the wrong parking space again?" She asked in quick succession.

"Beats me." He said, as he ducked into the trees along the water's edge, looking for a place to cross. "Maybe I parked in their favourite make out spot."

"Oy! Watch it!" Donna scolded, gasping as she narrowly avoided being struck by a back-flung branch after the Doctor had passed under it.

"Sorry." The Doctor said, as he ran on ahead of her.

Biting her tongue to keep from swearing again, Donna grimaced, as her face was pelted with snow. The Doctor was rapidly threading his way through the trees, like a deft seamstress' needle through an intricate tapestry. He'd momentarily forgotten that his night vision was far superior to Donna's.

"Look out, Donna!" He shouted, as he sent another branch her way. A fraction too late, as it happened.

"Thanks for that." She told him sarcastically.

Wiping her dripping face with her sleeve, Donna warily kept an eye out for any more wayward branches. In doing so, she'd nearly crashed into the Doctor's back. He had abruptly paused, eying something below them in the stream. Finding what he'd been looking for, the Doctor leaped off the low bank of the stream. He'd landed square on a stony patch of land. It was a miniature island, dividing the stream into two narrow watercourses before they joined together once more, further on. Holding out his arms, the Doctor helped Donna jump across to where he stood.

Once they had safely crossed to the other side the stream, they made their way up the wooded hillside. The Doctor stopped for a moment to see if they were being followed. For cover, he used a boulder the size of a mini. There was another explosion from the direction of the lay-by. Seconds later, the two of them instinctively ducked as a chunk of flaming wood crashed into the weeds near the stream. The Doctor ironically observed the flames being extinguished by the softly falling snow.

"But...why are they trying to kill us?" Donna asked, breathing heavily. She leaned against the boulder, feeling the icy hardness of the granite penetrating even the thick fabric of her parka. "Who are they?"

"Dunno." The Doctor said, tugging on his ear. "But whomever they are, they obviously don't like picnic tables."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Crouched in the protection of a large boulder jutting out of the mountainside, Donna blinked away the snowflakes from her eyelashes, squinting into the darkness. However, there was nothing to see. The falling snow had banked the few fires made by the exploding picnic tables. She could barely see the Doctor crouched alongside her. The moon was now completely hidden behind the clouds. Tall trees loomed over the two of them like sleeping giants, deepening the gloom even further.

The stream below kept up its merry chuckle as if nothing had ever happened. The lay-by was quiet now. So silent and still, that Donna felt like she was hiding in a crypt. She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought.

"Are you alright?" The Doctor asked gently, sensing Donna's sudden discomfort.

"I'm stuck in a forest in backside of nowhere, I have blocks of ice where my feet used to be, I'm getting pelted with snow, and I can't see a blinking thing. Oh yeah. And I'm also running away from some invisible death ray. _What'dya think_?" Donna retorted, in an attempt to brush aside her fear.

"You're making a list?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Oy!" Donna scolded him. "I'd tell you off for getting cheeky, but my teeth are chattering too much."

"Not so loud!" He hushed her with a whisper. "I'd really rather they didn't know we're here."

"Why? You think they'll follow us?" Donna wondered, as she shivered, pulling her parka closer about her.

"Ehhh—very probably, yeah."

"But, what are the chances of them finding us? " She whispered, frowning. "I can barely see my hand in front of my face. Wouldn't the snow cover our tracks?"

"Oh, I think there's every chance they could find us." He turned and looked at her. "Let's put it this way, Donna. If you were in Vegas with those odds, you'd be going home with a sizable wodge of cash."

"Well, we can't stay here all night, doing our impressions of a snow sculpture. So you'd better come up with a plan, Doctor." She told him. "Preferably something that includes a roaring fireplace and a hot toddy."

"Working on it, Donna." He whispered.

Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor palmed his sonic screwdriver. He crouched in the dark, frowning at it. While he was staring at the sonic, Donna felt a strange sensation. Shocked, she stared at her hand as it slowly became transparent. Though she opened her mouth, her startled cry never came. Donna abruptly vanished.

"I could use this to locate a heat signature, assuming they give off any sort of heat. That would pinpoint their exact location. We would know where they are, if nothing else." He mused. "However, that would likely also make it easier for them to find us. If they can trace sonic emissions, that is. What do you think, Donna?"

The Doctor was met with silence. To him, that could only mean one thing.

"Donna?"

Unconsciously brushing the snow from his trousers, the Doctor stood and turned to look for her. Instead of Donna, he beheld a small, shaggy black and white dog, sitting in the snow. Raising both eyebrows, the Doctor stared at the animal.

"Donna. My goodness how you've changed." He told it dryly, rubbing his face in consternation.

The snow-covered dog wagged its tail and held up a paw.

The Doctor squatted down and 'shook hands' with the dog. Looking it in the eyes he urged, "Where's Donna, boy? Where's Donna? Go find Donna!"

In response, the dog lay down in the snow and rolled over on its back.

"OK, so maybe not." The Doctor straightened up, heaving a sigh, "I guess that only works on Lassie."

Looking around him for signs of Donna's whereabouts, the Doctor saw nothing, no tracks in the snow, other than the scant traces of their flight to the mountainside. However, his nose did detect a trace of a sour, rubbery smell. The Doctor's hand slapped his head, shedding snow like dandruff.

"That's it! A biodistilled modified teleportation beam. So that's how they did it! How clever was that?" He shouted. Then he paused, almost childishly stamping his foot in frustration. "Oh! I'm so thick! What's wrong with me? I should have noticed that right off."

Just then, the snow ceased falling. Scuttling before the wind the clouds parted, reveling a full white moon. It cast its blue light upon the snowy ground, and caused the trees to throw stark, black shadows across the landscape. All of the sudden, the dog sat up and barked at a brightly lit, cigar shaped disc that silently rose from behind the mountain. The Doctor's eyes followed the dog and his brow wrinkled with worry.

"Oh, Donna. I'm so sorry." He muttered sadly. Then grimly he stared at the spot where he'd last seen her. "I'll find you, no matter what. And when I find whoever did this, it's not going to be any picnic for them, I promise."

Cautiously, he made his way back to the TARDIS, wary of more explosions or signs of teleportation. Without being bidden, the dog followed him. Pausing before the TARDIS door, the Doctor fished out his key. He stared at the pulsing coloured lights of the ship, which was slowly elevating straight up into the sky.

"What are they up to?" He pondered.

The Doctor didn't have a long to wait to find out. Another red beam shot out from the sky. Its pinpoint focused just a few meters from the TARDIS.

"Oh no you don't!" He said, quickly unlocked the door and shoved it open. "I'm not having any more of that!"

The Doctor bodily hurled himself into the control room. The door slammed shut behind him. He raced to the controls and frantically worked them. He didn't notice the dog, who sat behind him, watching his every move. Just as the TARDIS began to fade, the night turned to day. The Doctor's ship was enveloped in a brilliant, firey explosion.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

By now it was obvious to both Ben and Bailey, that the strange object in the sky was clearly following them. In hindsight, Ben sorely regretted his decision to drive straight home, instead of staying over in Montreal.

"Maybe we should stop, Ben. Turn around and go back to Vermont. There was a motel outside of Brattleboro. It's not all that far." Bailey said nervously.

"No! We keep driving. We're not far from home. That thing can't follow us forever." Ben insisted stubbornly, his white-knuckled fists gripping the steering wheel for all they were worth.

Ben was desperately trying to ignore the strange craft in the sky, but it was nearly impossible. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He pried his left hand loose from the wheel and shakily groped for the window handle. Cranking down the window part way, Ben breathed in the crisp autumn air.

With a slight whistling noise, the frigid night breeze streamed into the interior of their Chevy Nomad. In the back of the station wagon, Little Joe sat upright. Pricking his ears forward, he sniffed. Then whining, the dog lay back down, curling himself up into a furry ball. He worried eyes roved to and fro, watching first the top of Ben's head, then Bailey's.

"Jeez! It's cold out there tonight. Looks like we might get our first snow of the season." Bailey shivered. "Do ya' have'ta have that window open? Never mind the alien menace. You're gonna' wind up giving me double pneumonia."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart." Ben sighed. Begrudgingly, he rolled the window back up. "I just needed a bit of fresh air."

"Wait!" Bailey pointed out his window. "We just passed a rest area. Looks like it has some kind of phone booth. It said '_police_' on it. Turn around and go back. Maybe we can call for help."

"And tell the cops what? That we're being chased by a flying saucer?" Ben snorted. "Yeah, Ben. I'm sure that'll get them out here. To arrest me."

"Arrest you?" Bailey echoed back to him incredulously. "For what?"

"Oh, I dunno'. For making a prank call. Wasting police time. Drunk driving. I'm sure they'll think of something."

"Drunk driving? Right, Ben. Now you're just being melodramatic. They can't arrest you for that. We only had a six-pack of beer. And that was yesterday." Bailey shook his head at Ben's thickness. "Look. We've passed the rest area. But according to my map there's a town up ahead. About..." Bailey squinted at the map, trying to read it by the lights of the car's dashboard, "...seven, maybe ten miles down the road. We can...Ben? Why did you stop the car? Isn't that dangerous? We're right in the middle of the road, for pete's sake!"

Bailey was greeted by silence. Ben didn't answer, he was frozen in place. His face turned pale and he began to shake all over. With eyes stark with terror, Ben stared into the car's rear view mirror.

"What's going on?" Letting the map slide to the floor, Bailey shook his boyfriend's arm. "Ben, talk to me. Are you OK? Why have you stopped the car?"

Ben struggled to find his voice. His mouth felt dry as sandpaper. "I didn't stop the car, Bailey. The car stopped all on its own. Look for yourself."

And it was true. Ben's foot wasn't on the brake. The indicator on the dash showed that the car was still in drive. And the motor was running. However, the car was standing stock still. The headlights had dimmed significantly, however. So dim, that Bailey could barely make out the double yellow line in the middle of the highway.

"Maybe the battery's going dead?" Bailey suggested hopefully. Though he knew little about cars, since he didn't drive. "Or a fuse is on the fritz. Cars do have fuses, don't they? Ben? _Ben_? What the hell's going on? Say something, will ya'?"

"Oh my God." Ben whispered, still staring into the rear view mirror. "They're here. They've coming for us."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Come on, sweetheart. Finish your breakfast. You don't want to be late for your first day on the job." Donna's mum smiled sweetly down at her daughter, who was sitting at the kitchen table. "Now before you go, I've got a surprise for you, Donna." She layed an envelope beside Donna's plate. "Ten pounds. So you can have yourself a celebration lunch down to the pub. You've been looking so long for good job. I think you've earned a little treat."

Just then, Donna's granddad, Wilf, came into the kitchen carrying his telescope case. He halted in mid-stride, fixing a flinty look on Donna.

"What're you sittin' there for, then?" He barked at her. "That lot sack you before you even started workin' for 'em?" Scowling, he shook his head as he went to the door. "Just my luck to be saddled with a lazy, feckless granddaughter. Never would catch me hanging about the kitchen on a workday morning..." He grumbled. Wilf went out, slamming the door behind him.

"Never mind him, Donna." Sylvia said to her daughter apologetically. "I'm sure he's as proud of you as I am. He just doesn't like to show it. You know how he is."

"Yeah. I know, mum. It's fine, really." Donna sighed.

"Right."Sylvia bustled over to the kitchen counter. "Have you got everything you need? I'll just get my car keys. We can stop at Costa for coffee on the way, if you like. Try not to be too anxious about your first day. I'm sure you'll get on fine with the rest of the museum staff." Pausing, she turned at gazed lovingly at her daughter. "You do look lovely in that new trouser suit, Donna."

"Thanks, mum." Donna smiled back.

Then she paused, a puzzled look creasing her face. She wasn't wearing a trouser glanced out the window. It was a warm, sunny day outside. So why was she sitting there bundled up in a parka?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The place in which the TARDIS had re-materialized was dimly lit and cavernous. Shrugging off his long coat, the Doctor threw it casually across one of the struts in the control room, he opened the door. Purple and yellow tinted lights back lit clouds of steam, which lazily drifted upwards from pipes and vents along the walls. Glancing curiously about him, the Doctor sniffed the air. Then, frowning, he experimentally tapped the floor with his right foot. Instantly, he was down on his knees with his ear to the floor.

"Well," he murmured to himself, "Definitely a space ship." Standing, the Doctor absently tugged on his ear and sighed. "Problem is though, is this the right ship? Or the left ship? Or even even a ship at all? Maybe I'm in one of those ridiculous dream sequences writers use when they can't come up with a good plot idea."

Suddenly, a klaxon sounded. A bright red strobe light began to flash somewhere in the room, while a mechanical woman's voice blasted from an unseen tannoy.

"_INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! AUXILARY ENGINE ROOM. COMPARTMENT THREE."_

"Halt! Stay where you are!" Shouted a man's voice from the far end of the walkway. "And will somebody turn off that bloody alarm, already?"

"OK." The Doctor shrugged. "Probably not a dream, then."

Turning to run, the Doctor pounded down the aisle way to escape his pursuers. Only to be met by armed guards as he rounded a corner. He skidded to a halt as the four guards aimed their very lethal looking blaster rifles at his chest.

"I'm not armed!" The Doctor quickly informed them, raising his hands and showing the guards that they were empty. "No weapons! See?"

As one, the guards took a menacing step forward. The Doctor heard their rifles click into firing position.

"Oy! No need for that! I'm one of the good guys. Well," he conceded, "unless you're the bad guys." Which I suppose would mean that I should've kept my mouth shut just then."

"Who are you? What are you doing here? And how in the name of all the gods did you manage to get on board this ship, undetected?" Came a stern voice from behind the Doctor.

"I'm the Doctor. I'm looking for my friend. And obviously your ship did detect me, or else I wouldn't be standing here with my hands in the air. That would just be silly, wouldn't it? Though maybe not as silly as doing jazz hands..."

"Silence!" The man shouted. It was Commander Pruda.

Moving from behind the Doctor, Pruda stood in front of his prisoner, eying the Doctor like he was some strange, ugly insect.

"Are we pausing for a moment of prayer? Or did you want me to stop answering your questions?" The Doctor inquired with raised eyebrows.

"I want you to tell me what you're doing here. And you had better start talking, now!" Pruda ordered.

"First you wanted me to be answer questions. Then you told me to shut up. Now you want me to say something. Shall I wait until you make up your mind? The Doctor whinged.

"I said, talk!" Pruda fumed.

"Well, there was this time when I had to deal with a being called the Mara. It had manifested itself in the form of a giant snake..."

Pruda took out his gun, lightly pressing its muzzle against the Doctor's nose. The Doctor swallowed, tentatively finishing his sentence.

"Er—never mind. It was a long tale, anyway."

"If you won't tell me your purpose for being here, then I have no further use for you." Pruda said scornfully.

Stepping away from the Doctor, the commander gestured to the four guards with his free hand.

"Kill this man."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Hold on a minute." The Doctor said, shooting an indignant glare at Commander Pruda, " Don't I even get a last request? Now that's just rude."

"I'm sorry that you find my manners so lacking, Doctor." Pruda said dryly. "You, on the other hand, shall not have to worry about breaches of etiquette any longer. Guards! Kill him. Now!"

"Wait!" The Doctor shouted hastily, drawing himself up to his most powerful stance, "By penal code two thousand and fifty-two dash-C sub-section alpha of The Shadow Proclamation, I demand a trial by cerebral pugilism."

"The Shadow Proclamation? Those old gas bags?" Pruda snorted derisively. "We are not bound by their out-moded laws and regulations. What do we care about them?"

"And yet here you are, skulking about the Earth. Kidnapping humans in secret." The Doctor said softly, yet with a sudden quiet menace in his tone.

Narrowing his eyes he added, "Like my friend, Donna. And who knows how many others? If you're so unafraid of those 'old gas bags' as you put it, why then are you hiding? Hmm—? What are you lot up to? I'm guessing it's something that might make things a little hot for you if anyone found out. Am I right? Oh, don't bother to answer. If course I am."

"You know nothing!" Pruda spat out angrily.

"I'd know more by five am on a Sunday morning, than you would learn the entire week." The Doctor shot back. "So let's cut to the chase, as the Americans down below would say. I've clearly stated my formal request for a trial. To ignore such a request would mean an automatic death sentence for the entire crew of this ship. Now if you really don't care about The Shadow Proclamation, then I'm in deep trouble. But if you do, well..."

The Doctor let the sentence hang in the air, like an executioner's noose, his meaning quite clear. He kept his gaze steady on Commander Pruda. But out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor noted that the guards had shifted their feet, looking at each other uncertainly.

All of the sudden, a buzz came from the commander's communications ear piece. Pruda put his hand to the com-pod in his ear.

"Yes? What is it?" He frowned at the information the science officer on the bridge was giving him.

"Nonsense! That doesn't necessarily mean...wait, did you do a full scan?" He shook his head at the answer. "Then there must be something wrong with your equipment. Check it again." Pruda scowled even more deeply at the response. "I don't care what you think! I'm ordering you to re-do the scan. And don't bother to contact me again until you have the correct information! Pruda out."

"Is there a problem?" The Doctor inquired politely, clasping his hands behind his back. None of the guards had seemed to notice that he'd put his hands down. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Guards! What are you doing just standing there?" However, Pruda did note the Doctor's more relaxed posture. "Restrain the prisoner. And why haven't you searched him for weapons? Must I do everything myself?"

"Tough getting good help these days, isn't it? No proper work ethic anymore, if you ask me." The Doctor said conversationally, grunting slightly in pain when one of the guards roughly gripped his arms.

One of the other guards searched his pockets. He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and stared at it quizzically.

"What manner of weapon is this?" He asked the Doctor.

"It's a screwdriver, not a weapon. Not unless you're being threatened by some nuts and bolts. Not as strange as it may seem. I was attacked by a sentient nail gun once. Apparently it was allergic to plywood."

Giving the Doctor a dirty look, the guard shoved the sonic back into his pocket. Much to to the Doctor's relief. He'd grown rather attached to this version of his trusty device. In the meantime, Commander Pruda had been eying the Doctor thoughtfully. Seeming to have come to a decision, he nodded his head.

"Very well, Doctor. Consider your death temporarily postponed. I will consult with the captain. He will decide whether or not your _trial _will go forward. Guards, take the prisoner to the security cell."

Quietly breathing a sigh of relief, the Doctor allowed himself to be marched away.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

For roughly six hours, the Doctor had been kept waiting in a security cell. It was a small room not much bigger than an airing cupboard, with shiny steel walls and nothing else. There wasn't even a bench to sit on. The door was solid and there were no windows, or even much air circulation. Only enough to allow an oxygen-breathing prisoner to live. It clearly wasn't meant to give the prisoner any sense of comfort. In fact, the Doctor knew it was deliberately intended to create extreme stress and anxiety. As was the long wait.

When Commander Pruda finally arrived at the cell, he found his prisoner on the floor. His back was propped up against one wall, knees jackknifed due to the confined space,. His hands formed a makeshift pillow, folded behind his head. The Doctor appeared to be peacefully sleeping. He was even snoring slightly.

Pruda pressed a button on a key pad attached to the wall outside the cell. Immediately, an electrical jolt coursed through the walls and floor inside.

"Ow!" Suddenly shooting to his feet, the Doctor was rudely jerked awake. Rubbing his backsides, he threw the commander a baleful glare. "If that's your idea of a courtesy wake up call, I'd hate to see what you'd use as an alarm clock."

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Pruda shouted at the Doctor.

"A little recreational napping. You should try it sometime. Very relaxing way to pass those long hours alone. Er—assuming you are alone? Have girlfriend you can talk to? Boyfriend? Or a nice pet, perhaps? I used to have a pet dog, you know. I do miss him sometimes. Always pleasant to have someone to talk to. Except when they natter on, non-stop. Blab, blab, blab. I hate being stuck with someone who never knows when to shut up—"

"Oh, do shut up!" Pruda barked at him. "If you'd stop talking long enough, you'd find out that the captain has decided to grant your request. He awaits you in the conference suite." Pruda nodded to a guard who opened the cell door. "Alright you. Let's go."

"Two of my favourite words. _Alons'y_!"

Grinning, the Doctor took the lead, striding down the long, bare, slightly rounded ship's corridor. In the wrong direction, apparently.

"This way, Doctor."

Pruda pointed in the opposite direction. Doing an about turn, the Doctor continued on. The confused guard following along behind him, like a duckling chasing after its mother, earned the guard a scowl of disapproval from his commander.

Minutes later, the Doctor was comfortably ensconced in a well padded chair. He was seated at the far end of a long polished black table, which was inset with computer terminals. He'd helped to himself to a seat without being asked to sit down. Which hadn't brightened commander Pruda's already tetchy disposition. However, the commander was forced to restrain his urge to pound the Doctor's face by the presence of the captain. Instead, Pruda stood at rigid attention, the hands at his sides curled into tight fists. The captain meanwhile, was preoccupied with whatever information was on the computer before him.

"It seems we have no choice but to grant your request for a trial by cerebral pugilism, Doctor." The captain spoke without looking at their prisoner. "Yet, I would not become too comfortable with this decision, were I you. It is up to me to decide whom your opponent shall be. And I have found a challenger that I'm sure you will not be able to defeat."

The captain's finger touched the computer screen. "We are prepared for you now, Ageis."

Seconds later, a man suddenly appeared in the room, coming out of thin air. He was an elderly, white-haired gentleman, clad in flowing white robes. Much to Pruda's obvious annoyance, the Doctor smiled and waved gaily at the newcomer.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. Welcome to the party! We were just about to put on our silly hats and pop open a bottle of orange Squash."

Commander Pruda bowed deferentially towards the man.

"Our scans say that he is a Time Lord, Ageis Grenwold. However, there must be some error. They were all destroyed in the Last Great Time War. So that does seem highly unlikely."

"A good word," The Doctor winked, "_'_unlikely'. That's very me."

"The planet known as Galifrey has long since perished. And when it burned, it took all of its people with it. That is an indisputable fact." Pruda insisted angrily.

The Doctor merely raised an eyebrow at this.

"You missed your calling, commander. You'd have made an excellent tabloid journalist."

"Nevertheless Doctor, they are an extinct species. They no longer exist. Therefore, you cannot be a Time Lord." Pruda asserted forcefully.

"Yes, commander. I know they're gone. Every day of the rest of my life begins with the knowledge that I was the one who destroyed them." The Doctor replied somberly. "But they're not extinct. Not yet, anyway. You see, I'm the last of the Time Lords."

The pale man in the white robes spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and resonant, with an almost unworldly quality to it.

"The Time Lords were nothing. A speck of cosmic dust adrift in the ebb and flow of the universe."

"Ah. I'm sharing a room with a a poet, it seems." The Doctor remarked blandly. "I'd say that I'm impressed, but the commander there seems to have a problem with liars."

"Your people were but a moment in the space of reality. Here and gone in the blink of an eye. We are The Everlasting. A part and parcel of everything there was, is now, and ever will be. All things flow through us, around us. We are everything and nothing. We have no concept of time. For us, it is irrelevant." The Aegis said loftily.

"What? What! _What_!" The Doctor seemed genuinely flummoxed by this information. "How can you have no concept of time?" Pausing a moment, he scratched the back of his head. "Although, it did give you an excellent excuse when you wanted to stay home from school. And think about the long tea breaks at work. The possibilities are endless."

"Time is meaningless to us. The Time Lords were mere children when it came to their knowledge of the universe. Prepare yourself, Doctor. For I have the power of all the cosmos behind me. The Everlasting cannot be defeated in any of your pathetic mind games."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The commander rose from the conference table and gave the Doctor a flinty stare. The captain waved him down, but Commander Pruda stood fast. It wasn't until the captain spoke, ordering him to sit, that Pruda obeyed. However, he could not refrain from threatening his prisoner some more.

"The trial by cerebral pugilism will take place on the main command deck immediately when we depart this room. Our crew is readying the equipment now. I'm quite sure it shall be a very short bout, Doctor. The Aegis has never been beaten. Not in all our memory. I will enjoy watching you slowly turn into a gibbering idiot before you die. Not," he chuckled gratingly, "that there will be much difference from your present state."

"Sorry," the Doctor said, politely stifling a yawn, "are you threatening me again? Because as threats and intimidation go, I'd rate you about a minus two. Which I suppose would put you on par with a double glazing salesman. As a matter of fact, I tend to find all this butch military posturing a massive yawn, actually." He gave another yawn—this one a jaw-cracker, as if to demonstrate. "In fact commander, if I'd have known you were going to be this dull I'd of let you shoot me straight away, to save me the torture of having to listen to you."

"What? What!" Pruda's jaw dropped. He slammed the table with his fist, his anger boiling over at the Doctor's display of utter disrespect for his authority. "_What!_"

"Oy!" The Doctor whinged indignantly. "That's my line! I hate a plagiarist. That's the problem with schools these days. You're only taught to take tests and watch educational holovids. You've become too lazy to think for yourselves. No imagination. All the curiosity washed out of you. It's just sad."

"You play the clown to hide your fear, Doctor." The Aegis suddenly spoke.

"Nah." The Doctor answered, giving the Aegis a cheeky wink. He leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head, crossing his legs comfortably. "I just enjoy a good laugh, me. Humour is a standard part of my personal survival kit. Well that," he amended, "and my Galifreyan army knife, and a really big box of nano-gene sticking plasters."

"Beware the power of the Aegis, Doctor!" Pruda snarled.

"There you go, boring me again. You're an insomniacs dream, commander."

"Do not mock!" The captain warned. "You would do well to be more respectful, Doctor. The Aegis are the most powerful beings in the known—"

"As opposed to what?" The Doctor interrupted brusquely.

Abruptly dropping his feet to the floor with a resounding thump, he leaned forward, his features deadly serious.

"Cos' I've dealt with so-called 'all powerful' beings before, captain. The Trickster, Zeus and Demeter, the Great Vampire, the Celestial Empress of Tanjko, Satan, Suhtek, the Megara, the Great and Powerful Oz. I've met more gods than a chip shop has chips. And what of the Paladin hordes from the First Time War? They were believed to be the most powerful and almighty beings of _any_ universe. Yet where are they now, hmm—? Not a speck of dust remains of them. Not even a mention in The Observers Guide to Gods and Demons. Time takes everything in the end. Even the omnipotent and immortal."

"Oh tosh, Doctor." The captain sniffed. "How could the gods possibly die? Now I think you truly are playing the part of the fool."

"Then you've missed the patently obvious fact that I'm not smiling. It isn't the amount of power that makes a being god-like, captain." The Doctor answered somberly. "It's how that being chooses to use or abuse its powers, that matters. Yes, I'm a Time Lord. And I am telling you that nothing will exist past the end of time." He shot a distasteful glance at his opponent in the pending trial. "Not even His Aegisness sitting over there."

The captain's com buzzed. He listened to the information he was given, then nodded to the commander.

"Or you as well then, Doctor." The captain smiled. "In fact, I sincerely doubt you will live past this very day."

"Guards! Bind the prisoner and take him to the command deck. His trial will proceed forthwith." Pruda ordered smugly.

"Oh, I'm so glad you didn't say 'fifthwith'." The Doctor quipped, as two guards hauled him bodily to his feet, binding his hands behind his back. "Because I do rather detest long waits."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Without knowing quite how they'd gotten there, Ben and Bailey suddenly found themselves inside a small, dimly lit room. The walls were shiny, like stainless steel. Rigidly upright, the two of them were stood against one of those walls. They both were unable to move, though there seemed to be no restraints holding them.

"Ben?" Bailey said, his voice quavering slightly with anxiety. "What's happening?"

"You're askin' me?" Ben answered. "How the hell should I know? But takin' a wild guess, I'd say we've just been kidnapped."

"That's crazy! Why do that? We're not rich or anything. Who would do such a thing?"

"Well, we've just spent half the night being chased by an unidentified aircraft. I'm thinking it's the military. Maybe they want us for some kinda' top secret experiment. If not the government, maybe it's the reds. Or a mob of homo haters. I really dunno', sweetheart. Wish I did. I'll tell you one thing, though. It may be illegal for us to be in love, but so is kidnapping. This is still a free country. We got rights." He stated flatly, covering up his fear with bluster. "Whoever they are, I'm not gonna' let 'em get away with this."

"My God, Ben. You don't think it's aliens, do you?"

"Oh come on, Bailey! Get real!" Ben snorted. "You've been watching too many _Twilight Zone_ re-runs. There's no such thing as strange little men from Outer Space."

Just then, there was a slight hiss and part of the wall next to them slid open, creating a doorway where previously there hadn't been one. A dazzling white light spilled through the opening. When the door shut again, the light remained. Only now it appeared to come down directly from the entire ceiling. Blinking against the sudden brightness, for a moment the two men didn't see who was there. Then at first glance of his captors, Ben inhaled his breath sharply.

"Er—then again..." Ben muttered.

Several of the Gops had entered the room. Smiling, one of them produced a small round device from his overalls. Pressing it with his thumb, he began speaking into the device. The language he was using was one neither human recognized. Another Gop took out a slender wand-like instrument, and began waving it in front of Ben's chest. Stopping this procedure abruptly, the Gop stood back and stared at him.

Puzzled, the Gop with the wand reached out a hand tentatively. He gently fingered Ben's red and black sweater, fascinated.

"Oh, swell. That's just what we need." Bailey said unhappily.

"What? What's wrong?" Ben asked nervously, eyes boggling at the alien in front of him.

"We would have to be wearing matching sweaters."

"What's wrong with matching sweaters?" Ben said, suddenly indignant.

"I hate couples who wear matching outfits. Positively kitschy. Makes me feel like Charlie Brown." Bailey made a face. "It's too...adorable. Bleh!"

Ben threw a hurt look at Bailey. "But, my mom gave us these sweaters. You told her you loved them."

"It was a Christmas gift, OK? I was only being polite. It probably took her months to knit these blasted things."

"Then why did you let me pack them for the trip, if you don't like them?"

"Because _you_ like the sweaters, Ben. And because I love you, you idiot. I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Just then, the strange door in the wall slid open again. The Gops backed away deferentially as a new person entered the room. This one was different than the others. He was taller and more human in appearance. He was also pushing along a trolley loaded with what appeared to be medical equipment.

"Erm—that doesn't look so good, does it?" Ben said, swallowing hard. "You don't think they're going to kill us, do you?"

"Maybe they're just going to give us a routine check-up. Like at the doctor's office." Bailey said hopefully. To himself he thought, 'Oh, dear Lord. Please don't let us be die in matching outfits.'

Meanwhile, some forty-five years in the future, Donna was having problems of her own.

Ever since she'd left her mum's house that morning, Donna hadn't been able to shake the eerie feeling that something was very wrong. And not only at her new job For the minute she'd stepped foot inside the museum's staff entrance, Donna had felt completely at sea.

Her last job was working in the laundry at the Wanderer's Lodge Motel. The wages were low, the work was tedious, and the hours could be unpredictable. Yet the atmosphere was stress-free and fairly relaxed. Donna smiled, remembering. She could do the 'hotel towel fold' practically in her sleep. And she'd made good friend among the workers there, even though she was the only one on staff who spoke fluent English. She and her mates had quite a few laughs together. It helped to make the long hours seem shorter and the work less taxing.

Unfortunately, her granddad had insisted that she get 'a proper job'. He didn't approve of her doing what he called, 'chav labour.' Nor was he thrilled with her non-British friends. Though Donna hated working in an office environment, she'd gotten weary of his persistent nagging and searched the adverts. Two weeks later, here she was. Stuck in the mouldy basement of a museum, cataloguing dusty old things that she hadn't a clue about. Donna didn't tell her employers, but she detested bookkeeping and filing. She'd tried working as a temp when she was younger and hated every single minute of it.

"Ahem! Miss Noble," came a snooty male voice from behind, startling Donna out of her thoughts, "we hired you to catalog our new collections, not to daydream about...well, whatever it is someone like you does, I suppose. Are you having difficulties already?"

'You don't know the half of it, mate.' she thought. Turning to her boss, the impeccably dressed Mr. Tarrington-Smythe, Donna smiled and said, "Oh no, sir! I was just wondering if you'd like me to make you some tea. I'm sure you must be parched, hard at work in your office like you are."

"Hruumph! Yes, well, thank you, Miss Noble. But I do have a secretary for that." Donna silently gave a sigh of relief, as her boss seemed temporarily pacified. "Carry on with what you are doing. If you have any questions, feel free to ask my secretary, Mrs. Barstow. I'm sure she'd be delighted to assist you."

Though his tone conveyed that he doubted Mrs. Barstow would be anything but. Taking his leave of her, he marched back into his office and shut the door. Donna turned back to her work. She picked up a tiny, intricately carved statue. Holding it before her, she glanced at the tag. It read simply, '_Venus. Pompeii._' along with a date and a catalog number.

"I wore a dress like that, once. Though if I'd of known I was gonna' be sacrificed in it, I might've worn something a lot more practical." She told it, sounding almost like her old self for a moment. The Donna whom travelled with the Doctor.

Then she frowned. Confusion abruptly crossed her face as Donna whispered, "What'd I say that for?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The lights were dim on the circular deck of the ship's bridge. The one exception being the middle of the floor, about one and a half meters behind the captain's chair. There, twin ceiling lights shown down brightly on two shiny steel straight back chairs. Both had been bolted to the floor by the ship's Gop technicians. From the backs of the chairs hung multicoloured wires. One end of the wires were plugged into special ports in the flooring, while the other end of each wire had a clamp of some sort attached to it.

A few moments later the doors to the command deck slid smoothly open, as the Doctor was led in by his guards. They themselves were flanked by the captain and his number one. Following behind them, his features carrying an arrogant, haughty air, strode the Aegis in his flowing, spotless garments.

Marching him over to the two chairs, one of the guards silently gestured with his head that the Doctor was to sit down.

"Are we playing charades before the match?" The Doctor asked, a delighted smile alighting on his face. "Brilliant! Hmmm—a head twitch...could be anything. Let's see..is it a book or a film title?" He pondered. Giving his guard a cheerful wink he added, "Gotta' be something easy, I reckon. You wouldn't want to strain yourself, you know, thinking too hard...unless you're having some kind of nerve spasm and haven't given me my clue yet? That would be a bit of party faux pas, wouldn't it?

"Sit down!" The guard snarled, roughly forcing the Doctor into the chair.

"Alright, alright! Don't get your briefs in a twist—unless you're going commando today? Then I'm afraid you'll have to merely imagine getting your underpants twisted. If you have any imagination, I mean."

"Keep still. This is no game, Doctor." The guard commanded.

"Well, if that's going to be your attitude, I wouldn't go expecting an invitation to my next TARDIS birthday bash." The Doctor sniffed, folding his arms petulantly. "I'm blacklisting you. You're no fun at all. It'd be like inviting Mary Whitehouse. She tried to put a stop to the last party I had. Said hitting the pinata was encouraging the children to commit acts of violence. Worst. Party. Guest. _Ever_!"

Giving the Doctor a haughty, superior look, the Aegis calmly sat down across from the Doctor.

"Did you know if you keep your face like that it will give you high blood pressure?" The Doctor said conversationally. "Not to mention making you look like a complete a—"

"As you already know Doctor, you've requested a trial by cerebral pugilism." The captain spoke formally, as he came up to the pair of them. He began reading from an flat data pad he held in front of him. "Let it be recorded that the Time Lord known only as the Doctor will now enter into a bout of cerebral pugilism with Aegis Grenwold, Great Lord of the Dark Realms, Associate Controller of The MMC, Producer of '_They're Only Human'_, and sole owner of the ten outer planets of Exitar, as well as this ship and all her crew."

"Do you have to call him that all the time?" The Doctor said, raising an eyebrow at the captain. "Blimey! No wonder he's so smug. It's a wonder anything ever gets done when he's around."

The Doctor looked at the Aegis, "Pardon me Aegis Grenwold-Great Lord of the Dark Realms-associate controller of the MMC-producer of '_They're Only Human_'-and sole owner of the ten outer planets of Exitar-this-ship -and-all-her-crew, but is this going to take very long? Not that I don't want to come out and play with you. Only, I have my friend Donna to rescue, you see. I'm afraid she gets rather tetchy about being forcibly detained. I'd never hear the end of it! And quite frankly, I'm running out of aspirin."

"I warn you again, Doctor. Do not mock the Aegis." Commander Pruda scowled. He was standing behind the captain, almost eagerly watching as the Doctor was being prepared for the trial. "One more outburst like that, I will make you sorry that you ever came abroad this ship."

Two Gop technicians had already proceeded to place a silver circlet, much like a crown, upon each of the two men's heads. The object was studded with small gold diamond-shaped plates. These had a copper stud projecting from the middle. One by one, the technicians clamped wires to each of the studs. The Doctor's wires were blue, the Aegis' were red. These were passed through the back of each chair, and then plugged into the ports in the floor.

"You call that a threat?" The Doctor smirked at Pruda, "I'm already sitting in the naughty chair. What more can you do? Slap me on the wrist? And believe me commander, I've been threatened by the best: Daleks, Sontarns the Great Carnivorous Maw...you're no more scary to me than a grandmother sitting by the fire, knitting socks. Do you knit, by any chance? No? A bit of off-duty crocheting, perhaps?"

"Let's not wait for a trial, captain." Pruda hissed, drawing his gun out of its holster, "Let's just forgo the formalities and kill him right now."

"Silence, both of you!" The Captain ordered. He read again from his data pad: "The rules of this match are as follows: As he is not the one on trial today, the Aegis gets to choose the terms of the match. The Aegis has chosen multi-binary transcendental maths."

Glancing up from his reading, the captain gave a formal bow to the Aegis. "I have decided that as he is not on trial here, The Aegis will be granted the opportunity to begin the first round. Do you acquiesce to this, my Lord Aegis?

The Aegis gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said, "I do so. You may proceed, captain."

The Doctor's face showed his surprise at the Aegis' choice. A slight smile traced his lips. Brilliant! Transcendental maths was his favourite subject in school. It was almost too good to be true.

It was that thought which abruptly gave him pause. Somberly, the Doctor reminded himself of the old human adage that if something seemed too good to be true, there was at least an eighty-seven percent likelihood that it probably was. There had to be some sort of a trap. But what could it be?

Resuming the formalities, the captain continued reading, "Taking turns, one contestant will think of a mathematical formula. The other must either match or excel what his opponent has devised, and then come up with a brand new formula. If he does not succeed, he dies. The winner is determined by whomever lives through to the final round. Should the prisoner win, he shall be considered innocent of all charges and thereby will be free to go. The match will be monitored by myself via the bridge view screen. I shall be acting as judge. Should I determine that one of you has gone too far beyond the rules, it is an automatic death sentence. Which I will personally order to be carried out immediately."

The captain looked up from his data pad. "I have read you the rules as they stand, and now verify for the record that they are in accordance with the procedures laid down by The Shadow Proclamation. Have you both understood these rules as I have read them to you?"

Steeling himself for what lay ahead, the Doctor merely nodded. The Aegis too, also silently nodded his agreement.

"Then you may begin, Aegis Grenwold."

On the view screen a complex mathematical equation appeared. The Doctor easily countered it with a new, even more complex equation of his own. As minutes passed, the maths formulas appearing on the view screen gradually evolved into a constantly swirling mass of byzantine symbols, the like of which the captain and his crew had ever seen before. In his chair, the Doctor's face grew more and more pale. He had squeezed his eyes shut, enmeshed in pure concentration.

As the equations became more difficult for even the Doctor's advanced mathematical skills, he felt the life slowly draining from him. He was gasping now, his hearts beating rapidly. Under his suit jacket, the Doctor's shirt became soaked with sweat. It was the machine. It sapped the opponent's life force and gave that person's strength to the other challenger. The siphoning off of his life and mental force got stronger for every pause between the Doctor's answers. The longer the pause the weaker he would become, until he finally died.

Then out of nowhere, it came. A formula so convoluted and sophisticated, so completely out of even his wide realm of experience, that the Doctor's mind was almost driven to a standstill. He was flummoxed by the realization that the mathematical knowledge of the Aegis was far more advanced than his own. For the first time since the match began, he had no clue as to what the answer could be, nor how he could possibly come up with something better. That's when the Doctor knew. He was going to die.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The new equations that the Aegis had just given the Doctor were esoterically intricate. Under other circumstances he would have been delighted. But the machine was attacking him with each hesitation. He could barely concentrate. It was like trying to catch a handful of snowflakes and give a detailed description of them, before they all melted away. Symbols and patterns began to swirl around like a whirlpool inside the Doctor's mind, drawing him inexorably down into the darkness of the unfathomable.

Only just able to come up with a solution, the Doctor struggled to pose his own problem for the Aegis to tackle. Unfortunately, the Aegis quickly countered the Doctor's maths. He could almost feel the Aegis' smug triumph as the man's mind came up with the longest, and most complicated formula yet. The Doctor finally faltered, completely unsure of the concept being posited to him.

Feeling his mind slipping away, he knew that if he lost the match there'd be little hope for his survival. The Doctor's temples throbbed with the twin drumbeats of his hearts. He fought to grasp the flurry of previously unknown concepts being fed to him. As he struggled once more to work out an answer, the machine worked against him. Suddenly, it sent a needle-sharp jolt directly into the nerve centre of his brain. The Doctor gasped. It was like the inside of his head was being burned by a white-hot piece of iron, fresh from a blacksmith's fire. He heard a someone crying out in miserable agony. Nearly a full second passed before the Doctor became aware that the voice was his own.

The end was near, now. As more time elapsed between his last answer, the machine sapped more of his strength. He could die at any moment. And even on the slim chance he did regenerate, at best he'd be left with all the self-awareness of a Galifreyan yumbapear. And he hated pears. Without being aware of the look of the disgust crossing his face, the Doctor thought about their gritty texture in his mouth, eating the bland tasting, mushy fruit, which felt as if it were made up of minute grains of sand...

Without warning, something happened he'd not expected. Inside his head, the Doctor saw the Aegis' face also take on a distasteful expression. At that same instant, he realized something. The equation given to him by the Aegis had something familiar about it. Something which had seemed so impossible to fathom before, now appeared ridiculously obvious.

The Doctor had to stop himself from mentally slapping his forehead. Carefully, almost reverently, he secreted away the idea behind one of the few last locked doors inside his mind. And then he began to sing.

"_O would you like to break down in a car, keep your teeth at night in a jar, or pick up biker chicks in a bar—or would you rather be a Dalek?_"

The pain abruptly ceased. The Doctor felt his mind begin to clear. In his head, he saw the superior look on the Aegis' face slowly turn to one of bafflement. Sensing he was finally getting a mental toehold the Doctor didn't let up, swiftly launching into a different tune. In his mind, he began singing a rude rugby song.

"What is this?" The Aegis roared. "You are not adhering to mathematical equations, Time Lord! The rules! The rules must be strictly followed!"

"I should've known you'd be the rod-up-your-bottom, blinker-visioned conservative type." The Doctor grumbled as he finished with the last few bars of the song—which are quite unrepeatable in mixed company. "I am following the rules. You're just not paying attention. Haven't you ever heard of thinking outside the box? Which I have to be very good at, because I have box, and I can't always be I inside it every hour of the day."

"This is your only warning, Doctor." The captain said. "You are not giving mathematical formulas. The Aegis is right. Please follow the rules, or I shall be forced to kill you."

"With all due respect, captain, I quite agree that there are times when obeying rules and procedures is vitally important," the Doctor replied. "The rules of what to do if your spaceship is about to crash, for instance. Though quite frankly, I should think getting hit by my carry-on bag would be the least of my worries. There's the rules of etiquette when meeting The Queen. The rules of time—very bad to muck about with those. And, most especially, the rules of donkey-snooker...take it from me, you _don't_ want to know what they make you use as billiard balls if they catch you cheating."

Though he was still very weak, the Doctor managed to give the captain a cheeky grin. "I think too many rules are being made by people with no life whatsoever, if you ask me. And even if you don't ask me. I am not breaking the rules here, because I gave a valid answer. Technically speaking, music isa form of maths. Look it up, captain. The Aegis just gave me an equation which has a direct counterpart in many musical scores."

His fingers fluttering over the surface, the captain swiftly consulted his data pad. "It appears that you are quite correct, Doctor. I hereby validate your answer. You may continue with the match."

"And on that note—get it? Note?" The Doctor's quip was met with a mixture of disapproving looks and blank stares. "Meh. Everyone thinks he's a critic nowadays. I knew I should have stopped them from inventing Twitter," the Doctor muttered. Clearing his throat he continued, "As I was saying, on that note, it's time for me to give you a new equation. Come on! Do try and keep up, your Aegisness! "

So saying, the Doctor began mentally whistling Chopin's '_Moonlight Sonata'_.

Angry at this unexpected turn of events, the Aegis took longer than usual to counter the Doctor's musical choice. What he came up with was bland and somewhat off-key It reminded the Doctor of one of his little pet peeves: those annoying human males who go about tunelessly whistling as they browse along supermarket aisles. Them and impatient shoppers who queue up in the ten items or less line, with more than ten items. He wondered if the Aegis was a queue jumper.

As the Aegis finished his turn, the Doctor switched gears and mentally belted out his favourite Proclaimers tune. The Aegis struggled mightily. For the first time, his face began growing red. His hair was damp with sweat that rolled down his forehead, making it seem as if he'd just come in from the rain.

After a long pause, the Aegis sang a Bilbot hornpipe. Pausing again, he then delivered a weak variation of a Venusian lullaby. Which each moment he lingered searching for a correct answer, the machine gave him a jolt. Now, the Aegis was the one gasping with pain.

The Doctor took a second to think, then softly sang, '_Oh Shenandoah_'_, _before launching into a Kaiser Chiefs tune_. _

Summoning his strength, the Aegis came back with the Zygon National Anthem. Then he tried a Vespiform ceremonial hymn. Which came out sounding rather like a Gregorian chant sung by a dying wasp.

The Doctor easily countered this with '_Good Vibrations'. W_ithout hesitating a beat he quickly offered up a rousing rendition of '_The_ _Locomotion_.'

The Aegis was nearly doubled over. His mental projections were growing ever weaker. He sang a short Logarian drinking song. The Doctor smiled before singing a song by American indie band The Takeover UK, "_Ah la la, la-la-la-la-la..."_

For his counter challenge to the Aegis, he tried an old American pop song, '_Girls Just Wanna' Have Fun._'

Crying out with an yet another spurt of pain, the Aegis tried to think up an answer. He finally came out with the _Sontaran Battle Opus_ in D flat. But he was clearly in trouble now. The man's face and robes were soaked with perspiration and he could barely breathe. As a last resort, the Aegis tried to stump the Doctor with the forth movement of _The Great Symphony of Kraddicus Prime_. But the song came dribbling out like drool from the mouth of an idiot.

This was the moment the Doctor had been waiting for. Inside the Aegis' head he watched helplessly as the Doctor stood up and began to dance. His eyes bulging, his face turning purple, the Aegis could only observe the scene playing out in his head as the Doctor sang and danced. It was impossible! Yet, he could think of no solution. He could barely think at all, now.

Mentally dancing for all he was worth, the Doctor pictured himself with his hands clasped behind his head, his elbows akimbo, pushing his bottom out towards the Aegis while singing, "Heeeyyy—Macarena!"

That's when the Aegis let loose with a long scream. A moment later he vanished in a bright shower of multi-colour sparks and a white puff of smoke.


	18. Special Announcement from author

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT (18th July, 2013): Hello gentle readers & Whovians! Many thanks to the few of you whom have taken the time to read my Doctor Who fanfics, and most especially to those of you whom have offered your encouragement and support. Unfortunately, my PC died, and I am unable to continue to do any writing. Thanks again for taking the time to read my work. xx NBG 


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